Chapter 6

The Songs moved into a house with two courtyards, dismissing almost all their servants. Song Yumian’s belly grew larger by the day, but the Third Prince had no intention of marrying her. Principal wife? With her present status, even a secondary consort’s rank was beyond her reach.

I encountered him when I went to the palace to talk with the empress dowager. “How heartless you are, Great-Aunt,” he said. “Your marriage, your own flesh and blood—you discard them all so easily.”

I gave him a kindly smile. “So do you.”

He had taken Song Yumian into his household as a concubine but refused to keep the child. One bowl of medicine left her bleeding uncontrollably. She would never be able to bear children again.

“You see,” he said softly, “we are alike at heart, Great-Aunt. Why won’t you work with me?”

I smiled again. “I cannot decide whether to call you a fool or an idiot. Your father has so many sons. What difference does it make to me which one inherits the throne? Besides, I am sixty. Who knows whether I will live to see another emperor crowned? I’d have to lose my senses to wade into this mess.”

He had no answer. Once, I had a husband’s family, children, and grandchildren. He could have offered the Songs wealth and power. Now I stood alone—and an old woman alone at that. There was nothing left that mattered to me.

Oh, there was Yingyue. She remained in my residence rather than leaving with the Songs. Song Yumian called her a heartless social climber, but I knew better.

“I could make your beloved granddaughter empress,” the Third Prince said.

“I do not care,” I told him. “And Yingyue does not want it.”

But I did wade into that mess after all.

I complained to the emperor. His third son would not stay in his place, I said. He had repeatedly tried to enlist my support and was consumed by ambition. The people called him the “Virtuous Prince,” and his reputation was excellent. He might pose a threat to the crown prince.

The emperor listened. He himself had risen from crown prince to emperor, but his position as heir had never been secure. The late emperor had preferred his eighth son. Only with my protection had the present emperor finally succeeded to the throne.

That was why he most detested anyone who coveted the heir’s position.

He named his third son Prince Gong—“Gong” for the deference a younger brother owed an elder—and dispatched him to a fief unimaginably far from Duanjing. He was forbidden to return to the capital without a summons.

As his concubine, Song Yumian had to go with him. She did not want to. After she went home and wept to her mother, Liu Sanniang arrived the very next day with a knife to her own throat. My guards dared not touch her, and she made it all the way to me.

Nanny Gao murmured, “Your Highness has seemed a little bored lately. I took the liberty of telling them not to try too hard to stop her. A bit of amusement for you.”

Liu Sanniang’s knife hand was unsteady; she had already cut her neck. She was overwrought and bristling with righteous anger. “You have already stripped us of everything. Why won’t you leave us alone? Mian is my only daughter! At my age, if she leaves, will we ever see each other again?”

Tears streamed down her face. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees and begged. “I know His Majesty trusts you. Princess, please put in a good word for us. I cannot live without Mian. I wronged you before. Don’t take it out on her. I’ll bow to you. I’ll bow!”

She struck her forehead against the floor several times with loud thuds. It bruised almost at once.

“Will she bash herself to death?” Yingyue whispered to Nanny Gao.

“Good riddance if she does,” Nanny Gao said.

I looked at Liu Sanniang without much expression. “I cannot help you.”

She became agitated again, dragging the blade across her neck. “If you refuse, I’ll die right here in your residence! Let the world see how our noble Grand Princess drove an innocent old woman to her death!”